Another Eternity
by Jilliegoat
Summary: Wildwing reflects on his relationship with Canard. Constructive crit is more than welcome.


Disclaimer: I don't own anything except the story.

It figures he'd just show up out of nowhere. As chaotic as the thoughts in my head were and as uncertain I was about how I felt about Canard at that point, I remember everything about that day so well. He was just standing there in the middle of nowhere just outside of Anaheim, just as puzzled about where he was as I was two years, four months, and six days before.

I'll take the image of him standing there in the nothingness of Anaheim's outskirts with me to my grave, right next to the one of him being consumed by the worm. His hair and clothes were disheveled; his expression was that of a mix of apprehension and just plain confusion. He hadn't aged from the twenty-one year old Canard I knew, but I could tell he was a very different drake. He had that look in his eyes that I've only seen in the elderly, that knowing, quasi-wise, look that gives them an air of exhaustion and its like you can not only see but feel their thoughts of both better and worse days. I would have felt bad for him if I wasn't so damn angry.

I know its petty and I should put it behind me, but I just can't get over it. I was his best friend for as long as I can remember, I'd do, and did, anything for him in our youth despite sometimes heavy consequences, and still in the end I was nothing more than Saurian bate. I was merely a small pawn in his master plan to take back the planet.

I can't kick myself enough for not seeing it from a mile away. I mean, look at the rest of the team: Tanya is a textbook example of a genius, Mallory was the best of the best as far as Puckworld's military went, Duke was the most notorious jewel thief in recent history from what I understand, and Grin is...well, Grin. No further explanation required. What was I? What am I? Just some random civilian who happened to know the guy in charge armed with nothing but a kid brother and bad hair. I don't have special skills, I'd never even touched any sort of firearm before all of this and I had no desire to go into the military. I parents were the Puckworld equivalent to hippies. Did you expect anything else? What kind of name is Wildwing anyway?

But hindsight is always twenty-twenty, right?

But that's not the point. The point is I trusted him and put him on a pedestal since before the sandbox, but when the chips were down Canard may have saved my life, but he really didn't mean to. Hell, I still had him on that damned pedestal until I saw him standing there in the middle of nowhere, tired, confused, and broken.

Sure, I was still happy to see him again, but he wasn't the same person I always remembered. He couldn't save me then. In our youth, I needed someone outside my immediate family to befriend and trust, during the Invasion, I needed someone to get me out of there, in the Resistance, I needed a leader. Now, I am the leader; I have come to trust each member of the team and think of them as family. Together, without Canard, we defeated the Saurians. Nosedive had proved himself more than just my annoying kid brother, but a valuable member of the team...with annoying tendencies. I no longer needed a savior; I needed someone I could count on when the time was convenient for me. I never really got that from Canard, as much as I cared for him.

I remember looking into the emptiness, seeing a figure through the hazy heat I've come to expect from southern California. I strained to see the shape and coloring of the figure to decide whether or not the figure was human or avian or whatever. Nothing surprises me anymore. First thing I deducted was that the figure was, in fact, avian. But that was the easy part. I wanted it to be Canard so badly, but at the same time still angry and resentful. It only took a few more moments of peering into the horizon to be positive it was Canard.

I knew the rest of the team was there, but I was really only aware of Nosedive. He and Canard never really got along. It wasn't so much out right fighting, but more just unspoken hostility. I never knew why, but Canard always made Nosedive uncomfortable. Not that I really ever bothered to look into it from either side. I looked back at him once as we all walked toward a dazed, stationary Canard (I figured the Duckcycles would seem hostile. Canard had a tendency to shoot first and ask questions later). He had this look I couldn't decide appeared more like disappointment or helplessness. He met my eyes for a second before finding something absolutely fascinating about his boots.

"Canard?" I called, "Canard!"

He turned to my voice, staring through me, but he didn't say anything. It felt so much like a dream, but I would have woken up by that time. I always had.

I continued to yell his name as I approached. The clouds above us darkened even more and I could smell the coming rain. I finally got a response when the rain started falling on the parched ground, drenching us

"W-Wildwing?" He asked, "That you?"

I nodded lamely. He looked up at the black sky in joyful disbelief. It confused me for a moment before I realized he finally figured out he wasn't in the Limbo anymore.

"I'm not..." he trailed off "But this isn't Puckworld either."

I herd Nosedive utter an acerbic remark; I instantly whipped around and shot him a hard look to silence him. He went back to studying his boot, embarrassed by the public scolding.

I smiled at Canard and placed a hand on his shoulder, "It's a long story, pal. C'mon, let's get out of here"

"Why's it so hot?" He asked, rubbing his eye with the heel of his hand. I couldn't help but laugh.

When we got back to the Pond, Tanya insisted on checking Canard out. She found nothing, but ordered he stay in the infirmary for the rest of the night. She reluctantly allowed me in to see him and I explained the situation to him. It took a while, but it was a smooth speech. I've said it in my head over a thousand times.

"Wow." He remarked, closing his eyes for a moment. "My story isn't half as interesting as that."

"No?" I chuckled.

"I've been floating in a void for...how long did ya say?"

"Two years" _four months and six days _I added in my head.

"Two years" He repeated, "Feels like so much longer."

"I'm sorry, pal." I said gently

"Don't be. I had it coming."

I stiffened. Through all my anger and resentment, I never thought he deserved the Limbo. "What're you talking about?"

"Don't play dumb, Wing, you're horrible at it." He said flatly, "We both know I've been a terrible friend to you."

I didn't have anything to say to that. I agreed, yes, but I wasn't going to lay into him just then.

"See, you can't even try to disagree." I forgot he knew me so well.

"Canard, I – "

"Let me finish." I instantly shut my beak and gave him my full attention. "Thank you." He closed his eyes for a moment and let out a breath slowly and opened them again. "I've been floating in a void for two years, Wing. I can't tell you how many times I've relived every moment of my life. I realized how miserable I was to you, Wing. Stars, Wing, I used you for Saurian bait! I'm surprise you didn't shoot me on sight out there today. "He gave me a weak smile. I returned it. It faded quickly from his face and he continued.

"I always promised myself that if I ever saw you again, I'd apologize for all the shit I put you through." He paused for a moment, letting out a slow breath. "I'm sorry, Wildwing. You're the best, most loyal friend anyone could ever ask for and I treated you like dirt our whole lives. Can you forgive me?"

Could I forgive him? That was certainly the question. Then again, he just said everything I ever wanted him to say, and he meant it, I could tell. I looked into his eyes and I could tell he was internally begging me to tell him what he wanted to hear. I didn't think I owed it to him, but I felt bad for him then. If he were honestly sorry, it would be the big thing to do to forgive him. I haven't been very big these past years; this was a good a time as any to break the streak. After all, I could forgive him, even if I didn't just then.

"I forgive you Canard." Sounded like someone else was talking when I told him that. As lame as it sounded to me, he looked satisfied.

After that, I left the infirmary to let him get some rest. I didn't feel like seeing anyone else, so I went straight to my room. I always thought this was what I wanted. I still don't know why everything felt to unresolved. It's been six months since that day; I still haven't truly forgiven him. I don't think I ever really will, but I can pretend. I'm damn good at that. I can go on, ignoring the unresolved issues I have with him. After all, I've been doing it for twenty-four years. What's another eternity?


End file.
